


Pancakes and Strawberries

by Skarla



Series: Tony's Robot Army [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Background Tony/Bucky, Consent, Deadpool is less of a mess than anticiapted, Dom/sub Undertones, Good BDSM practices, Hot Chocolate, Implied subdrop, M/M, Studio Ghibli, Tony's Robot Army-verse, request fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2020-08-10 12:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20135410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skarla/pseuds/Skarla
Summary: This was requested by Princesshannon2002 as a follow on to Maple Syrup Mistakes and will make very little sense if read alone.After the great pancake breakfast, Steve is feeling more than a little off balance.  Good thing he has a friendly neighbourhood Deadpool to keep him company!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Princesshannon2002](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Princesshannon2002).

> For Princesshannon2002. I have no idea if this is what you wanted, but it is what spilled out of my brain in response to your request.

Steve closed the door to his apartment behind him, and then reached back and locked it for good measure. His mouth was full of the cloying taste of maple syrup and his thighs felt irritated by the scratch of cold, coarse fabric.

Deadpool's thighs had been warm and smooth when he straddled his waist and fed him a strawberry.

He wasn't thinking about that.

Steve headed into the bedroom to change into the brushed cotton lounge pants he slept in. The sheer size of the clothes selection Tony had ordered in for him made his stomach drop every time he entered the walk in closet, but there was nothing for it. It would be even worse to let the clothing go to waste, he reasoned, and he didn't want to hurt his friend's feelings. Tony had been nice enough to open his home after all, even if his home was a massive metal and glass skyscraper full of robots.

Bucky seemed right at home in the future. It made Steve wonder if something was wrong with him.

He wasn't thinking about that.

The hours stretched ahead, grey and empty. There was nothing on his schedule, nothing to do to fill his time. He'd already been for a run, his shoulders had yet to recover from the fight the day before so the rest of the gym was out of bounds and the choice of programs on the TV was overwhelming. He'd just been stuffed full of pancakes and strawberries so he wasn't even hungry-

He wasn't thinking about that.

Steve curled up on the centre of his bed and tugged the corner of the quilt over himself. It felt colder than usual in the apartment, although he'd seen when he walked in that the temperature was the same as it always was. In the old days he would have thought that he was coming down with something, but those sort of worries had been left in the past.

There was a small smudge on the wall across from the bed. He wasn't sure how it had got there. He stared at it as his body slowly warmed under the quilt, waiting patiently for the chill in his chest to ease. It always did, eventually.

He'd started to slide into a light doze when he realised that someone was hammering on the apartment door. He could faintly hear JARVIS arguing and a half familiar voice shouting back.

"JARVIS? Who is it?" he asked, feeling the usual stab of guilt and nostalgia for using the state-of-the-art AI instead of his legs.

"Mr Wilson is insisting on seeing you Sir," the AI revealed. "Shall I let him in?"

"Sure, go ahead," Steve sighed, smoothing the quilt back into place. The striking red and black figure appeared in the doorframe before he'd even left the bed, both hands raised into the classic 'don't shoot!' position.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," the hitman babbled, pushing Steve back onto the mattress with a surprisingly gentle touch. "I shouldn't have left you alone, my bad. Totally my bad. I have no excuse, I just didn't realise what that look meant until I was halfway down the side of the building, and well I wasn't really expecting it from you of all people, and... You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Steve blinked up as Deadpool impatiently dragged his mask from his head, revealing a face mottled with scar tissue and a surprisingly warm pair of concerned blue eyes.

"Sorry again. Let me start over. Um... Not sure quite how to start... How about you lie down and I'll tell you a story?" his unexpected visitor suggested, removing several handguns from around his person and unclipping his sword harness.

"But... You're the visitor, I should offer you a drink?"

Wade looked at him carefully. "Do you need to offer me a drink? Would it make you more comfortable?"

Steve thought about it for a second, his usually lightening fast brain seemed to be fighting through treacle. Would he feel better to offer the man a drink? Echoes of his mother bounced around his brain. It would, he decided.

"Tea? Coffee?" he asked, climbing back to his feet. Wade let him this time.

"Have you got any hot chocolate?" he asked as he followed Steve into the kitchenette. Or at least Tony had called it a kitchenette when he gave Steve the tour. It looked like a fully functioning kitchen to Steve. The hot chocolate was in a silver tin next to the silver tin with the tea in it. The coffee was in the fridge, because JARVIS told him that that was the acceptable place to keep it.

He turned around, jar in hand, to find Deadpool already filling the kettle from the sink. His mug tree was full of Avengers themed mugs, but he didn't feel like choosing one today. When he had first moved in the cupboards were full of plain white crockery, but once Stark Industries had started up the Avengers Merchandise line bits and pieces had started to migrate into the living quarters. Steve didn't like it, he didn't want to be reminded of Captain America every hour of every day. Some days he just wanted to be Steve.

He took two plain white mugs down from the cabinet above the toaster and set them on the counter next to the hot chocolate.

"Why did you decide to visit?" he asked as the thought occurred to him.

Wade shrugged. "I realise the explanation before wasn't the most coherent phrasing to ever fall from my lips," he said with what Steve thought was supposed to be a wry smile under the scars. "I... Just want to hang, ok?"

Steve nodded, too tired to be overly suspicious. "Do you want something to change into?" he asked instead. "Tony has given me a massive closet of clothes, I'm sure there's something in there that will suit you."

"Such a gentleman!" Wade announced, darting forward to place an air kiss next to Steve's cheek before pirouetting his way into the bedroom. Steve continued to make the hot chocolate, a warm, pleased feeling spreading through his chest.

But he wasn't thinking about that.

Wade was back again before the warm feeling had time to fade into chill, dressed in a soft blue hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants. "I stole a pair of your socks," he announced. "The boots really didn't go with the whole ensemble and no one needs to see my feet."

"It's not that bad," Steve said without thinking. "The scarring," he quickly amended, in case Wade thought he was talking about something else.

Wade stared for a moment but recovered masterfully. "You'd be the second person to think so," he said. "And she knew me before when I was all handsome and shit. Beauty on the inside and all that. Anyway, enough about me. What about you, buster? I heard that you had super healing but you're all colourful like a bare knuckle boxer in here."

Steve shrugged and handed Wade his hot chocolate. "I hit a tree, there was a lot of... Sometimes the serum just prioritises."

"You should get some arnica on those."

"Why bother?" Steve asked, leading the way into the living room. "They'll be gone by morning."

Wade hadn't followed him, he realised as he set his mug down on the coffee table. "That doesn't mean you don't get aftercare now!" he yelled from the bathroom, reappearing triumphant with a tube of arnica cream. "Shirt on or off?"

As most of the bruising was on his lower back Steve knew that leaving his shirt on would be pointless, but he appreciated Wade giving him the option, even if the wolf whistle he let out when he did strip made him blush.

Wade dropped a sofa cushion between his ankles and gave him a pointed look until Steve sat indian style on it, Wade's warm legs bracketing his hips. The temperature must have righted itself, he reasoned. Before he had been cold under a quilt, and now even shirtless he felt quite warm. Wade pushed him forward gently and began to apply the cream with light fingertips.

It seemed like an eternity and no time at all had passed when Wade reached forward for a tissue to wipe his fingers with. "All done," he said calmly, as if rubbing arnica cream on your new allies' back was perfectly normal for him. "Could you please pass me my hot chocolate?"

Wade didn't sit so much as sprawl, there was no position possible it seemed where one part or another of his anatomy wasn't touching Steve's as they drank their hot chocolate and Wade told him all about the other person in his life who didn't think that his face was the stuff of nightmares, as he put it. Steve was surprised by how much he didn't mind. He and Bucky had been pretty tactile, one upon a time. He remembered headlocks and friendly wrestling and a firm hand on his shoulder supporting him. Had Bucky changed or had he?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Wade asked, and Steve realised that he had stopped listening to the story, but that Wade didn't seem to mind at all.

"They're not worth that much," he objected.

"I'd still like to hear them," the other man said. "No pressure though, I realise we've only just met. Maybe next time?"

"There's going to be a next time?"

Wade hummed. "If you'd like. I'd like there to be, but it's up to you, really."

Steve frowned. "But-"

"You didn't have to let me in," Wade anticipated him. "A locked door is a pretty clear signal, one I would have respected. But you did, and here we are."

"Here we are," Steve echoed. "All right. Next time." The cold dead hours that had stretched ahead of him this morning had been filled with sound and movement instead of stillness and silence. "Do you have to leave already?" he asked, wishing he could take the words back as soon as they fell from his lips.

"I can stay as long as you need," Wade assured him. "Besides, my place smells like old lady pants. The smell of yours is far superior."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Wade have another night in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... Don't know what happened. Sorry. Rating has gone way up. I don't even... Well. If you weren't in the mood for smut, I recommend you stop at "Let's move this to the bedroom". 
> 
> Princesshannon2002, this is entirely your fault, for leaving that review and reminding me that there was an unfinished thing.

Steve was exhausted. His whole day had been filled with tactics and last minute plan changes and decisions... Decisions that had nearly got Natasha and Clint killed when the building he had sent them into had collapsed around their ears. Thank God Tony had managed to get them out before the ceiling came down.

It took him a second to process what he was seeing as he made his way up the back staircase, not wanting to face the rest of the team in the common area just yet. Deadpool, resplendent in his usual red and black, was crouched outside the door to Clint's floor.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Deadpool jumped and dropped a can of... Silly string? "Pranking Hawkass," Deadpool chirped. "What's up buttercup? Do you want to help?"

"I don't want to know," Steve said, rubbing a hand over his face and grimacing at the grit on his skin. "I nearly killed him today."

Deadpool looked from Steve to the can of silly string and back, before deliberately putting the can back inside his hello kitty backpack. "I'm sure you didn't mean to nearly kill him."

A black swell of despair threatened to rise and swallow Steve. "Intentions mean nothing, it was my order," he muttered. He wished irrationally for Bucky, but Buck was busy with Tony and he didn't want to intrude.

"You're not omnipotent Steve," Wade reminded him, catching Steve's eyes with his own - and when had he removed his mask? "Come on, let's get you upstairs and into a shower. I'll make some food... Well, I'll order in some food. Cooking is not one of my strong points."

"I can-" Steve began to protest, but Wade placed a gentle finger over his lips.

"You can but you don't have to. Come on, upstairs we go."

Steve followed, keeping his rote protests behind his teeth. He was tired, and if Wade really wanted to chat nonsense and order in pizza then he wasn't going to say no. He allowed himself to be prodded into the shower, where he spent more time standing under the warm spray than washing. When he emerged, Wade had somehow managed to leave a pile of soft lounging clothes on the closed toilet seat without him noticing. Was that a mark against his situational awareness or a mark for Wade's stealth skills? Steve wasn't sure.

"I ordered Chinese," the mercenary announced from where he was seated on the couch, fussing with what Steve recognised as the one of the blankets from the hall closet. He'd dressed in Steve's clothes again, and the sight did something strange to Steve's stomach. "Come and sit with me, and we'll watch a movie with no drama. Or very little drama. I'm thinking Ghibli, how are you with subtitles? Or Japanese - do you speak Japanese?"

"Subtitles are fine," Steve assured him as he sat on the couch and let Wade wrap the blanket around his shoulders.

"Great. Dubs suck monkey balls. My Neighbour Totoro to start, I think you'll enjoy the art style and it's, well, it's a nice story." 

Steve wasn't sure what he had expected to do when he returned to his apartment after such a disaster of a day, but it certainly wasn't this. With light tugs and nudges, Wade arranged them so that Steve was lying on his broad chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. The art style of the film was entrancing, the architecture and landscape portrayed in the animation so different to what he found familiar that he soon found himself completely absorbed. He barely noticed the soft chime that sounded when the food arrived, although when Wade shifted so that they could both sit up and JARVIS paused the movie he was forced to pay attention.

The food was delivered by one of Tony's robots, who chirped softly when Wade thanked it for the delivery, trundling out of the room as soon as the brown paper bag had been removed from its storage compartment.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," Steve confessed as he watched it go. "Bucky loves them, knows all their names, calls them he or she, but I... I have trouble telling them apart sometimes, and they just look like machines to me."

Wade paused in the middle of opening a container of kung pao chicken. "Does it upset you that Bucky has adapted to the future more quickly than you have?" he asked carefully.

Steve shrugged. "I should be happy for him," he said, abandoning the blanket to get a pair of forks from the kitchen.

"Who said that you had to be happy?" Wade asked. "It's ok not to be happy all the time, you know. You don't have to pretend with me. We're just chilling out, watching a movie, with some chinese food. It's a no-judgement zone here. You can be happy or sad or neutral or whatever. I'd prefer it if you weren't homicidal, but if that floats your boat, well. I am very hard to kill."

Steve stared at his unanticipated houseguest in shock. "You're insane!"

"Certifiable," Wade agreed with a satisfied nod. "But I would do anything for you, Steve-o. And I think, right now, you need that."

Steve dug a fork into his container of noodles and was pleased when Wade didn't comment on the lack of chopsticks. He hated using them, not liking the feeling of wood against his lips, but none of the others seemed to mind at all, and someone was sure to try to pressure him into trying every time he used a fork to eat chinese during a team meal.

JARVIS unpaused the movie, and Steve let himself get swept back up in the story, watching as the forest spirits and the small girls made a large tree grow in the back garden. He was so absorbed in the movie that it took a second to register that the fork hovering in front of his face was not, in fact, his own.

"Want a bite?" Wade asked, his voice extremely even.

Steve didn't quite dare to look at him as he lent forward and closed his lips around the gently steaming bite of chicken and pepper.

"It's delicious," he said after he chewed and swallowed. Wade shifted a little at the other end of the sofa.

"I could be persuaded to share, if you've been a good boy," he said.

Steve felt himself flush scarlet, but he couldn't deny that he was pleased, as well as embarrassed, by Wade's teasing remark. Only, when he turned to look at the mercenary at last, there was no trace of mirth on his face. Instead his eyes were dark and wide as he looked at Steve's flushed cheeks, his tongue slipping out to wet his scarred lips.

"Is this ok?"

Steve nodded automatically, still not entirely sure what he was agreeing to, but knowing that he didn't want this odd interaction to end. He felt at peace, for the first time in days, more peaceful than he had been since...

"Use your words, Steve," Wade chided, breaking him out of his reverie.

"Yes, this is... I'm... Thank you."

Wade smiled. "Good," he said simply. "Eat your food before it gets cold."

They finished the food in silence, although every few minutes Wade would share some of whatever container he was working through with Steve. The small gestures left Steve feeling warm and satisfied in a way that he was determined not to look too closely at, and when they had finished Wade pulled him gently back against his chest to watch the end credits of the movie.

"Shush," the scarred man said when Steve started say something about clearing up. "The credits tell you the rest of the story. Watch."

It was a simple order to follow, and Steve fixed his eyes obediently on the screen. Wade stroked one hand down his flank, the movement leaving a warm tingle behind. "That's good Steve. Just relax now."

He left his hand there, fingertips just caressing the edge of Steve's inner thigh, and Steve found himself focussing on the slight weight despite the distraction on screen. It was intimate for a casual touch, and he couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched him there. The casual touches amongst the team were reserved for arms and shoulders, although sometimes Bucky caught him around his neck and rubbed his hair into dandelion fluff with his flesh hand.

Steve bit his lip as the credits rolled on and he could feel himself firming slightly in his briefs. That was completely inappropriate! Wade hadn't given any indication that he was interested in Steve that way. Sure, they were cuddling on the couch, but they were both fully clothed, and Wade was a bit odd when it came to personal space, that had been clear the first time they had met, with the pancakes and all. Steve willed his body into obedience, thinking hard about scrubbing the toilet, but then Wade shifted his hand an inch higher and he was back where he started. He could feel himself getting hot as his embarrassment mounted, sweat prickling uncomfortably over his skin.

"Steve?" Wade asked, and Steve froze as panic replaced the embarrassment. "You're not relaxing. What's wrong?" His blue eyes traced over Steve's face and then widened in comprehension. "You don't need to be embarrassed," he said with a hint of a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. "Would you like me to touch you?"

There was a rock in his throat. Maybe he was allergic to the chinese food? Only no, the serum had made it so that he wasn't allergic to anything. Wade was waiting for his answer. Steve sat up, coughed a little, and dug his fingernails into his palm in an attempt to stay calm. "I... I don't want you to think that I expect, that this is why I invited you, um. I... It's been a long time, I'm sorry, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Wade's pupils had widened as he had stuttered out that dreadful mess of words and now he looked almost predatory, still sprawled at the other end of the sofa. It did not help the swelling situation in Steve's pants at all. "Oh, I want to, soldier boy," the mercenary purred. "Just say the word. This has to be your choice. Do you want to choose me?"

Steve nodded, and then remembering Wade's admonition earlier, choked out "yes."

"Good boy," Wade praised him, and Steve would have blushed again if all the blood in his body hadn't been intent on travelling south. "Now, you've had a hard day, so let's keep things simple for now, hm? I think I'll give you a handjob, and then put you to bed."

Something about that plan, simple as it was, didn't sound right. Steve considered for a few moments as Wade shifted to sit up and waited patiently for his consent, his hands in his lap. "That... Doesn't seem fair," he said eventually. "What about you? You should, um, as well you know?"

Wade looked at him for a long moment. "Steve... Have you ever been with a man before?" he asked bluntly. "Be honest."

"No," Steve confessed.

"When was your last sexual relationship?"

"I... Went on a couple of blind dates last year. Natasha made me. There was some kissing. Before that, um, the tour girls sometimes asked me to, uh, you know."

"In 1945?" Wade clarified. 

"44, mostly."

Wade nodded. "All right. I know you're not much for choices right now, soldier boy, but I want you to decide what and if you want to do for me, ok? And if that's nothing, that's fine. I can take care of myself in the bathroom."

"No," Steve blurted out, the thought of Wade retreating to another room to do that alone lying heavy and wrong on his mind. "I, um, I'd rather we were together." The whole thing was scary, and somehow hot, and if he thought too hard about what he was doing he was going to panic - but it had been so long, and he had been so lonely, and Wade was suddenly there, filling a void that he had barely even begun to recognise in himself with his maple syrup and gunpowder scent, his warm hands and his perceptive eyes that watched without judgement.

His eyes landed on the way that Wade's hands were lying a little too casually over his crotch, as if the man didn't want Steve to know that he was also affected by their proximity, and Steve was suddenly seized by an overwhelming urge to know.

"Do you want me?" he asked boldly, deliberately dropping his gaze to Wade's crotch before meeting his eyes again.

"Oh, soldier boy," the mercenary grinned. "You have no idea." He shifted deliberately, the soft fabric straining for a moment as he rolled to his feet and took a step closer, holding out his hand. "Let's move this to the bedroom."

It could have been a question, but it wasn't, and Steve on his feet in an instant, his fingers closing around Wade's offered palm. He let the scarred man lead the way, allowing himself to be gently manipulated until he was lying on his back against a mound of pillows, Wade curled against his side as he stroked his scarred hands over his t-shirt.

"Any time you say stop, we stop," Wade said seriously.

"Ok," Steve agreed. 

"What do you say if you want this to end?"

"Stop," Steve said at once. 

Wade rolled his hips a little at that, pressing an unmistakable hardness against Steve's thigh. "Good boy." The evidence of Wade's enjoyment was enough for Steve to bolster his courage and reach for the man in turn, slipping one arm low around his waist and splaying his fingers over his hip. He pressed a little, experimentally, and Wade repeated the moment, a small punched out sound falling from his lips. "You like that?" Wade asked, trailing his fingers lower across Steve's abs. "Is that how you'd like me to get off, rutting against you? Using you?"

Steve's own hips twitched at the thought of that.

"Maybe another time," Wade decided as he dipped his fingers under Steve's waistband. "That's not simple."

"Oh... Ok," Steve agreed, biting his lip as Wade's short nails scratched through his pubic hair. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so hard, his whole shaft throbbing in time with his heartbeat and his balls already feeling full and heavy. When had he last pulled one out in the shower? He couldn't remember. Sometimes he had wondered if he had left his libido frozen in the ice, but Wade was disproving that theory with prejudice. 

"Please," he asked as Wade's fingers shifted to stroke down the crease of his thigh. "Please touch me."

"I am touching you," Wade teased, stroking lightly. "Can you be more specific?"

Steve flushed, the words sticking in his throat, but he had a feeling that Wade would tease him just to make a point if he didn't get them out, and he needed to feel those strong, scarred fingers close around him. "Please touch my, my cock," he stuttered.

"Well done," Wade praised as his warm fingers closed around Steve's hot erection and pumped slowly. He swiped his thumb over the head, and Steve couldn't stop his hips from twitching. He'd always produced a fair amount of precum, and to have it smeared around like that just felt so divine. Wade did it again, and then with a low chuckle threw one leg over Steve's own to hold him down.

"I want to see you," the mercenary decided, and Steve wasted no time in using his free hand to wiggle the sweatpants down to the constraining weight of Wade's thigh, his cock standing wet and proud in Wade's fist. The soft fabric had been it's own tease, but now Wade was really free to move, alternating fast and slow stokes in a random pattern that kept Steve guessing, his orgasm building slowly.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it, Soldier boy?" Wade asked, leaning in to press a kiss to one muscled shoulder. He then trailed tongue and lips down, until he closed them around Steve's nipple. He scraped his teeth across the hardened nub, that all of a sudden seemed wired straight into his cock, which jumped visibly at the new sensation.

"Don't stop," Steve couldn't help but ask, suddenly irrationally terrified that this would somehow get taken away.

"I'm not going to stop," Wade promised, although his pace did slow as he studied Steve's face. "In fact, I think I've decided how I want to come." He shifted until he had straddled Steve's thighs, balancing easily before lowering his weight carefully, his fingertips still teasing over the purpling head of Steve's cock. Steve watched entranced as another bead of precum spilled from his slit, to be spread around by Wade's gentle fingers.

"Take your shirt off," Wade instructed, and Steve hastened to obey, nearly ripping the cotton in his eagerness. "I'm going to come on your abs, or rather, we are," Wade explained as he pulled his own dick out of his borrowed sweatpants. He kept his fist curled and Steve could barely see a thing as Wade shuffled forward and began to stroke them in time.

"I... I want..." he gasped around a moan as Wade added a twist to his upstrokes. "I want to see you."

That had the opposite effect to the one he had wanted, as Wade froze in place, his textured palm barely touching Steve's cock. Steve bucked a little in frustrating, his eyes nearly rolling back as the moment jerked his cock roughly against Wade's hand.

"Are you sure?" the scarred man asked. "I... It's not pretty."

"I'm not here for pretty, I'm here for you," Steve insisted. "I want... I want to see you. I want to feel you. The scars don't bother me, Wade, please? Please touch me again!"

Wade wriggled a little and the oversized sweats slipped further down, revealing scarred thighs that matched his arms and a hard cock, flushed with blood that mottled it pink and red. Steve felt an odd urge to lick it, to see what the textured skin was like under his tongue, but before the urge could develop into a desire Wade caught the two in a cage of his entwined fingers and began to pump slowly. The scrape of his palm against the side of Steve's sensitive member was delicious, and he felt more than saw more precum dribble from his slit.

"Shit," Wade breathed. "Don't need lube with you around soldier boy. Look at that dripping cock. Feel good?"

"So good," Steve agreed, revelling in the silk sheathed hardness pressed against his own. The knowledge that it was Wade's cock, that Wade was hard and wanted him was almost better than the sensation itself.

"I'm close," he added as an afterthought, feeling the tell tale tightening in his balls. That was the sort of thing you were supposed to tell people, right?"

"One day, I'm going to make you wait for me," Wade said breathlessly. "Make you wait to come until I've finished with you, want to watch your thighs tremble and your fists clench with the effort."

"I... I can wait," the blond promised recklessly, his eyes and mind caught up in how hot Wade seemed to find that fantasy, the muscles in his thighs standing out as he thrust against Steve. The soft head of his cock nudged against Steve's glans and Steve bit his lip, hoping that this small pain would help stem the rising tide of pleasure.

"You don't need to this time," Wade said. "We're not playing that game... Yet. Come when you want to. Or... Can you come twice?"

"I don't know," Steve confessed, his mind distracted as his body hovered on the edge of orgasm.

"Shouldn't negotiate mid scene, it's bad form," Wade muttered to himself. "Come for me, soldier boy," he ordered Steve, and Steve found himself obeying helplessly, his hips jerking as he emptied his balls all over his own stomach and Wade's hand, and Wade's hard cock.

"Shit that's hot," Wade gasped, readjusting his grip to splay one sticky hand over Steve's hip and wrap the other around himself to pump quickly. His knuckles brushed against Steve's spent shaft as it started to soften and Steve gasped and twitched at the overstimulation, trying to keep his eyes open to watch as Wade's face twisted with pleasure.

"That's even hotter, no fair!" the mercenary wailed, his hips stuttering forward as he started to orgasm, three long ropes of cum falling on top of the mess Steve had already made of his own torso.

Wade collapsed sideways onto the bed and they both just breathed for a minute. 

"Do you always talk during sex?" Steve asked curiously as he reached for the discarded t-shirt, intending to use it to wipe up the worst of the mess.

"...yes. Sorry," Wade said sincerely. "I know it's not-"

"I liked it," Steve interrupted before the other man could get the wrong idea. "Sleep was next on the list, right? Will you stay?"

"If you want me to," Wade agreed cautiously.

Steve tossed the soiled t-shirt onto the floor and rolled over to burrow into Wade's arms. He let out a happy sigh and waited as Wade slowly relaxed, his arms coming up to rub slowly across Steve's back and shoulders. 

"I'll make you breakfast in the morning," Steve promised as his eyelids started to droop.

Wade paused a moment, before his hands continued to move in soothing strokes. "Sweet dreams, soldier boy," he said quietly. "You did good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I think that might be it for this little side universe. I hope you enjoyed it! And if inspiration strikes again, I might add more. You never know. Please feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think! You might just inspire something.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny drabble to finish off this plot bunny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read or even reviewed really, all mistakes are mine. If you spot one, let me know and I'll fix it... I've just gone through 721 5th and fixed about seven!

A series of small events made him start to pay attention. He asked JARVIS to call Deadpool one Thursday, only to be told that he was already in the tower, and did Sir want to use the intercom instead? Then there was the incident with the slime monster on Fifth avenue, where an exhausted, green streaked Cap was called a 'good boy' by the maniac mercenary, and had only blinked and flushed a little before striding off to talk to the press. If Tony had tried that, Steve would have blushed scarlet and protested. If Bucky had said it, he would have been punched. Probably.

The point, in as much as there was a point, was that there was Something Going On with Wade Wilson and Steve Rogers. And Tony hated secrets that he wasn't part of. 

He decided straight away that to use JARVIS would be cheating, and that he wouldn't tell Bucky until he was sure that there was something to tell. Bucky had enough on his plate anyhow, they'd finally managed to get Wolverine to agree to a meeting, so the sniper would be gone for a few days at least. 

They had never been seen in public together outside of a call out, which normally would have indicated that they were nothing more than occasional coworkers, but then Tony ended up overhearing half a conversation about Indian take away that meant that they were almost certainly eating in together, even if they weren't eating out.

"I don't want to order it and have it go to waste," Steve said, sounding wistful.

"That's easy then, soldier boy," Deadpool had replied, skipping along the corridor at Steve's side. "I'll order it, and if you're good I'll let you have a bite. And you're always good, so you don't have to worry about not trying the naga."

"But what about-"

The closing elevator doors had cut off the rest of the conversation, leaving Tony with yet more confusing evidence. Steve's body language had been so comfortable, even more comfortable than he was with Bucky, and they had been friends for years.

Two days later he walked in on Steve sleeping with his head in Wilson's lap in the home Cinema. Bucky was due home that afternoon and he had a vague plan to watch Brave with Bucky and all of the Bots who wanted to come, which turned out to be most of them. He needed to move all the sofas to the edges of the room bar one to free up enough floor space, and he had not expected the room to be occupied.

"Shhhhhh," Wilson hissed at him. "It took me ages to get him to relax. Don't spoil it."

"I... I can make other plans," Tony agreed in a whisper.

Something about their positions was tugging at the back of his mind. The way that Steve curled up, the way that Wilson's socked feet were planted firmly on the floor, one possessive hand draped over Steve's shoulder.

"For the love of Science!" he gasped as all the pieces fell into place, pressing one hand over the arc reactor as he pointed the other ineffectively at the pair. "You... You! How? Does he even know what-"

"He knows enough," Wilson said, rolling his eyes. "Although I don't think he knows the words for it. And how? He was lost and crying in the dark, I just happened to find him first. Don't you go getting all jealous now-" a scarred finger was wagged threateningly in his direction. "He's mine. And don't talk to him about it. We haven't discussed telling anyone yet."

"Wade, shuuush," Steve mumbled sleepily, burrowing his nose into Wade's cotton covered thigh.

"I'm sorry, Soldier Boy," the scarred mercenary said at once, ceasing the finger wagging in favour of carding his hand through Steve's short hair.

Tony swallowed, his throat inexplicably dry. "I'll leave you to it," he said, backing out of the room as quietly as he could manage. He and Bucky could always watch a movie in the mansion after all, the living room there was large enough to accommodate all the bots and TURBO and her crew had finished with it last month, so the majority of Maria's frou frou had been eliminated.

Tony paused in the middle of the hallway as he realised that he had been asked not to tell Bucky. The sniper was observant enough, once he was back in the tower, surely it wouldn't take long for the brunet to figure it out. And when he did? That would be an interesting day.   
  
"JARVIS, put an autorecord flag on for any interactions between Bucky and Deadpool or Bucky, Cap and Deadpool in communal areas," he instructed the AI. "I want to get his face on video when he figures it out."

"If it was anything like yours, it will be a memory to treasure Sir," the AI replied. 

**Author's Note:**

> Depending on the feedback, I may consider adding more chapters to this little foray into madness. If you want to see more, please leave a comment to let me know.


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